


keep me here

by amjnyard



Series: you are real [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 03:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13825488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amjnyard/pseuds/amjnyard
Summary: This is real.Andrew wasn’t sure at first but the smell of black coffee in the morning and the cluttered path of shoes through his room and the tangled blankets cloaking his body convince him otherwise. Reality settles in when he lounges on the couch all day Saturday, inevitably getting roped into an inane violent videogame by Nicky, Kevin glaring disapprovingly from the kitchen.It’s real in the way the cold bites at his fingertips when he refuses to wear gloves for a morning cig, but insists on pulling on three pairs of socks. It’s the rush he gets on the court, closing out the goal, watching the opposing team’s strikers become angrier and angrier.But most of all, Andrew thinks, Neil is real.





	keep me here

**Author's Note:**

> i love my emo sons :')

This is real.

Andrew wasn’t sure at first but the smell of black coffee in the morning and the cluttered path of shoes through his room and the tangled blankets cloaking his body convince him otherwise. Reality settles in when he lounges on the couch all Saturday, inevitably getting roped into an inane, violent videogame by Nicky, Kevin glaring disapprovingly from the kitchen. 

It’s real in the way the cold bites at his fingertips when he refuses to wear gloves for a morning cig, but insists on pulling on three pairs of socks. It’s the rush he gets on the court, closing out the goal, watching the opposing team’s strikers become angrier and angrier. 

But most of all, Andrew thinks, Neil is real. 

He might have laughed if someone had suggested that to him not even a year ago. But now, Neil might be the most solid thing in his life. When the lines between reality and not start to blur, Andrew feels loose and dizzy, like he could float away at any second. But then Neil will crawl into their bed, hesitating only a moment to judge the moment and kissing him gently, before flopping onto his back besides Andrew. He’ll look over at Andrew, that fucking glimmer in his eye and ask, “Coffee?” like he doesn’t already know what the answer is. 

He’ll be the one to leave shoes all over Andrew’s rug, claiming that yes, he does need three pairs of running shoes, and no, he would not appreciate it if Andrew let Aaron sell them on eBay. Andrew will be lightheaded, ready to escape to the roof and dream about murdering his demons, when Neil will join him, hoodie tightened as much as possible and slide a carton of ice cream his way, like that could solve everything. 

Neil’s a fucking idiot, no matter what Boyd and Wilds say. 

That doesn’t make him any less real. And it’s not like Neil’s some magical cure all for the car crash of Andrew’s mind. It’s just, the bad days aren’t as often. More times than not, Andrew seeks Neil out, hoping for a glimpse of that breathtaking solidity. 

Take right now, for example. Andrew’s pretty sure that if anyone even looks at him the wrong way, he won’t be able to hold himself accountable for what he might do. He’s sequestered himself away in the library, the wind chill a little high for the roof, even by his standards. He desperately wants a cig, but he’s not a goddamn junkie, and so he digs his nails into the palm of his hand, stifling the urge. 

The whole reason he came to the library was to get away from people who know him, and Andrew’s not so sure he’s succeeded, seeing how Neil just stumbled into the library. His cheeks are bright pink and his hair is ruffled even though everytime he goes outside, Andrew tells him to wear a hat. Neil runs a hand through his windblown hair, unknowingly looking thoroughly debauched. Andrew is not pleased. 

Andrew slouches down in his chair, trying to avoid what he knows is coming. Neil spots him, his face lighting up like a goddamn Christmas tree and Andrew mentally raises the percent in his head. Beelining towards him, Neil slings his bag onto the table when he arrives, loudly pulling out a chair and practically dropping into it. 

“I was looking for you,” Neil wheezes, pounding his chest sightly. 

“Did you run here?” He doesn’t want to engage, but Neil is panting and Andrew’s mind naturally goes into the last time he was panting and he has to shift in his seat. 

“Yeah, away from Kevin,” Neil levels him with an accusing look, shrugging his jacket off and moving to open his backpack. Andrew stares back at him, deadpan. Neil flips his textbook open, seemingly unconcerned. “I figured you’d be on the roof,” he explains. “You weren’t obviously, but Kevin was. I guess he’s looking for you, too. He wanted extra Exy practice but I have a huge test tomorrow,” Neil gestures towards his book, “and told him I’d be right back.” 

“You ran here.” Andrew states, not quite sure what to do with the information. Neil shrugs and Andrew sees right through him. Neil’s obviously concerned and trying to hide his feelings behind a mask of unaffected nonchalance. He knows that when Neil didn’t find Andrew on the roof or in the dorm that he would have searched all over campus. 

The thought doesn’t make him want to be physically ill, which is a development. He can still feel the ghost of hands on his skin and the racket in his head hasn’t quite subsided so instead of leaning towards Neil, he slumps down further in his chair. 

Neil looks casual, flipping obnoxiously through his textbook. He doesn’t say anything else and Andrew lets the silence fall over his mind, muffling out the cacophony. For a moment, all he can hear is Neil’s steady breathing, the scratching of his pencil on paper and the occasional turning of a page. He knows Neil knows it’s a bad day, knows Neil’s known it since Andrew said nothing this morning, choosing instead to hibernate under the blankets like his life depended on it. 

But Neil said nothing, and the fact that he chose to seek Andrew out, even if it was just to spend time with him meant something to Andrew. The knots in his stomach ease up slightly, and he raises up in his seat. Neil glances up at him, the eraser of a pencil wedged between his teeth as he gnaws on the metal. Heathen. 

Neil’s staring at Andrew like he holds the fucking world and usually, Andrew would be irritated by the attention, but today he stares back. Then Neil smiles, radiant bright brilliant, and Andrew has to look away. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying? I don’t think I hold the answers to,” he peers over at Neil’s textbook, “Advanced Calculus.” 

Shrugging, Neil slams his book shut. He shoves it aside, dropping his pencil somewhere into the recesses of his backpack. “I was just doodling anyway,” he grinned, and Andrew rolls his eyes, snatching Neil’s notebook. “Hey!” Neil exclaims, halfheartedly reaching out to grab it back. Andrew gives him a look, glancing down at the paper. 

He’s surprised to see himself, drawn in Neil’s steady hand. Fractions and formulas float behind him, but the drawing of Andrew, slumped down in his chair, hood over his face, remains real. Neil is looking at him, a curiously indecipherable expression on his face. Almost like he’s scared of what Andrew will think. Andrew sets the notebook down on the table, running his fingers over the drawing once, before carefully ripping the page out, folding it, and tucking it in his pocket for further study. 

“That’s my homework,” Neil blithely remarks, like he didn’t just somehow change the entire course of Andrew’s day. 

Andrew levels him a flat stare. “Do you want me to murder you?” Neil holds up his hands in mock defense, haphazardly shoving papers and his calc book back in his bag. 

“You wanna get something to eat? Kevin threw out all the takeout last night,” Neil offers, carefully assessing Andrew. Doing the same to himself, Andrew wonders if he’s ready to be around others yet. He hasn’t thought of the past almost since Neil got here and decides he’d rather be with Neil in another place then sit here by himself. Not that he thought Neil would just leave if Andrew told him he wanted to stay. 

He shoves his chair back in answer, throwing Neil’s backpack at him. Neil doesn’t grin but Andrew’s positive he wants to. He sees the twitch of Neil’s lips out of the corner of his eye and as Neil rounds the table to stand by him, Andrew pinches his wrist sharply. The touch is through a layer of clothes but Andrew feels a familiar wave of nausea, even though he was the one to initiate it. He snatches his hand away, reminding himself even though he’s not feeling quite as murderous, this is still a bad day where his demons lurk around every corner. 

Neil curses, but merely sends Andrew a heated look. He seems to sense that Andrew’s not doing too well and shrugs his jacket on, zipping it up, his shirt getting stuck more than once. “Are you a fucking child?” Andrew snarls over his shoulder, attracting several disapproving pairs of eyes from around the library. Neil just laughs, breezing past him, holding the door open for Andrew, careful to make sure he’s out of the way. 

“Want me to drive?” Andrew tosses Neil the keys in reply, even though every fiber of his being is aching to be in control. His urge to hurt something is returning and not even the biting cold is enough to distract him, although it keeps him grounded. He hasn’t felt detached since Neil can through the library doors, however and he’s trying to count that as a win. 

The second he’s in the car and Neil sticks the keys in the ignition, Andrew cracks a window, digging through his pockets for a pack of cigarettes, his fingers trembling slightly. Neil doesn’t say anything, simply digs the lighter out of his pocket and cranks the heat so high Andrew can barely hear the rumbling bass playing on the radio. 

They seem to be driving aimlessly for a while, sitting in silence, just the sound of the heater and the radio filling the space. Andrew doesn’t mind. It allows his mind to quiet, allows him to stare at the profile of Neil’s face, his brow furrowed slightly. Andrew’s on his second cig, passing it occasionally to Neil when they pull up to a small diner Andrew’s never been before. 

Neil turns the car off, letting the keys drop through his fingers and into Andrew’s outstretched palm. He clenches his fist around them, the biting metal surprisingly grounding. Neil slides out of the car, but Andrew waits. He carefully tucks the keys back into his pocket, tries to spot Neil. His breathing is irrationally fast and Andrew slams his fist against the side of the car. Angry with himself, he climbs out of the car. Neil’s got his arms propped up on the roof of the car and the look he gives Andrew is surprisingly open. 

Andrew thinks he appreciates this honestly, even unasked for, more than anything else Neil could give him. He knows Neil wants to help, knows he really can’t help, and this open, unflinching honesty is much more than Andrew deserves. But he’s a selfish person and he’ll take Neil’s unwavering support for as long as it’s offered. 

Tugging his sweatshirt around him, Andrew wishes he had worn his coat instead. The wind is unforgiving and standing into it makes him feel like he can’t quite catch his breath. It makes him feel like he’s flying and it’s liberating. Neil goes to open the door, but Andrew shakes his head. “Order for me.” 

Neil goes inside without question, leaving Andrew to kick at the cement. He sits on one of the parking stops outside the front, lighting another cigarette. He takes a drag, blows out the smoke, and lets the rest of it burn to the filter before he stubs it out. He fingers the knives inside his armbands, his fingers numbing. It’s almost 15 minutes later before he finally pulls himself up to go inside, the bell jingling cheerily above him. 

Andrew’s not sure where Neil found this diner, because he feels like he just stepped back in time to the sixties. The booths are red and white laminate, the tiles the same color, although the white ones look like one too many cokes were spilled. There’s a jukebox in the corner, cheerily playing a Beach Boys song, and the waitress at the bar gives Andrew a hair too long of a lookover, clearly trying to reconcile his murderous expression with the neon orange sweatshirt he has on. 

Andrew resists the urge to flip her off and makes his way towards the back where Neil has selected a booth where he can sit with his back to the wall. Andrew is slightly comforted by the reminder Neil has demons he has to fight as well. 

He slides into the booth, grimacing slightly at the sticky feeling. Neil’s currently occupied with stuffing curly fries in his mouth, the plate in front of him looking like the site of a massacre. Neil overzealously uses ketchup and Andrew thinks it’s disgusting. Maybe Neil does it just so Andrew won’t snatch food off his plate. 

There’s a chocolate milkshake, a giant plate of crinkle cut fries and a hamburger, plain except for bacon and a side of mustard. Andrew stares at the plate, unable to comprehend for a moment. He’s taken aback by Neil’s easy understanding of him, and the fuzziness of this morning seems like a distant memory. Andrew feels like he could feel any emotion he wanted right now, like he’s tethered to the ground by Neil’s hand. 

He doesn’t say anything, just dunks three fries into his milkshake and stuffs them into his mouth. He’s about halfway through his plate of fries, Neil methodically picking apart the bun to his burger and occasionally trying to steal the bacon off his plate when Andrew’s phone starts buzzing on the table. He shoves it towards Neil, not in the mood to talk to anyone right this second and Neil takes one look at the caller ID before shutting it down. 

Andrew’s phone starts buzzing again and Neil rolls his eyes. Andrew snorts, shoving another fry in his mouth. Swiping across his phone, Neil puts it on speaker. “Andrew’s phone, how may I help you?” 

He can practically hear steam blowing out of Kevin’s ears, right before his accusing voice explodes out of the phone. “Where the fuck are you?” Kevin snaps, and Andrew would be pissed if he weren’t so amused by the look on Neil’s face. 

“We decided to get lunch,” Neil replies blandly. “I was feeling antsy.” Andrew tries not to think too much into the way Neil covered for him, but he finds himself aching with the urge to kiss Neil senseless. 

“It’s 3:30,” Kevin snaps, his voice taking on that emotionless tone that only happens when he’s good and truly pissed off. Andrew’s more confused by the time. He didn’t realize it was so late. Reaching over, he grabs Neil’s wrist, pushing his sleeve back to get a good look at his watch. Sure enough, it’s late afternoon. He’s not sure whether to focus more on the fact time slipped away from him, or the fact he’s holding Neil’s arm, and feels perfectly fine. 

Neil’s trying to get Kevin off the phone, eventually just hanging up on him. He slumps down in his seat. “Fucker,” he groans, staring moodily across the table at Andrew. Andrew gets out of his seat, ignoring the way Neil looks up at him with confusion, only to slide into the booth on Neil’s side. “What are you doing?” Neil murmurs, like he’s barely breathing. 

Andrew thinks if he can do this, can take control of the situation, he’ll be fine. He remembers the nausea of this morning, even touching Neil through his clothes and hopes he’s come down to earth more since then. 

“Yes or no?” He won’t take this step without Neil, and the yes has barely fallen from Neil’s lips before Andrew kisses him. 

It isn’t a nice kiss, not that many of them are, but Andrew is tender in the way he tugs on Neil’s hair to bring him closer, and the hovering of Neil’s hands over his shoulders make Andrew’s heart tighten. He trusts Neil and the fact he trusts Neil makes him angry and terrified beyond belief. He doesn’t ever want to stop feeling this way and knows if he ever does, his life would be meaningless. 

They break apart, Neil panting slightly, his lips swollen and red and if they weren’t in a public place, Andrew would let Neil get down on his knees. The ache of this morning is gone, replaced by Neil’s breath against his face, the smell of the fries and the jukebox music, now playing a lively GoGos song. 

“You okay?” Neil finally asks, the question Andrew knows has been on his mind since he woke to Andrew’s stony silence. 

“118%,” Andrew whispers into his ear, enjoying the way Neil’s back arches slightly. Before Neil can say anything else, or recover his breath, Andrew’s kissing him again. 

He thinks to himself, this is real this is real this is real. The thrumming of Neil’s heart underneath his palms is real and the flutter of his own is just as concrete. The lingering sweetness in his mouth from his milkshake is real and the music in the background is tangible. Andrew doesn’t know when “I hate yous” and percents became his own language for conveying emotions, but this is the most alive he’s felt today. 

Neil’s fingers clenched in his sweatshirt pull him to earth and the insistent press of his tongue keep him in the moment. He knows they’ll have to go back eventually, have to face Kevin but Andrew isn’t thinking of that. 

He’s lost in Neil, in this small bubble they’ve created for themselves. When they break apart again, Neil uses the opportunity to snatch another one of Andrew’s fries, and he scrambles for the butter knife to smack Neil on the knuckles. Neil lets out a surprised yelp, shock flitting over his features before he barks a laugh, his face open and pleased. 

This is real.

**Author's Note:**

> might be continuing this in a few other pieces but this stands alone


End file.
